


secret braided in-between

by rushes (lisettedelapin)



Category: Free!
Genre: Dreams, Long-Distance Relationship, M/M, Post-Free! Eternal Summer, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 16:38:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11361363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lisettedelapin/pseuds/rushes
Summary: “I can’t believe dream me gets to go out on more dates with you than actual me.”“To be fair,” and one corner of Makoto’s mouth quirks. “They’re not very good dates. It’s infuriating, you never say what’s going on.”(Or, Makoto sees Rin in dreams while they're apart)





	secret braided in-between

**Author's Note:**

> so stressed, sleepy and not having written anything in over a year is apparently when i get sucker punched all over again with affection for makorin??? i hope this isn't too rusty.
> 
> title from ["Braid" by Perfume Genius](https://open.spotify.com/album/7awgq3vvlsIeA7dZduR9x4), which absolutely destroys me (link leads to the spotify web player).

"Dreamed about you."  
  
"Yeah?" Rin says, nonchalant. Maybe because Makoto had sounded offhand, but mostly because he’s caught on the words like fabric snagged onto a hook and it's all he can muster. _Missed you_. Makoto says, quietly. Not shy but uncertain, like he’s conscious of not quite capturing the extent of it all. Then he swallows, Rin watches him swallow, watches as Makoto shifts to meet his eyes. _Dreamed about you_. And Rin's breath catches: "yeah?"  
  
They're on the train to Central, and Rin is regretting foregoing the dramatic airport reunion scene. He'd kept imagining it, all the ways the joy might burst out of them the second they saw each other. But that was before he actually did see Makoto and felt all over again how they both regress to flailing washed up fish levels of dithering when approaching public displays of affection with each other. It's ridiculous, really. Rin was never shy leading up to putting his heart on the line. And Makoto, no, Makoto was probably always shy about it. But then it's not even shyness so much as Rin sees Makoto at the airport and something blankets all those fantasies in a clean sweep, something like the hush he hears when Makoto says, next to him now, _missed you—dreamed about you_.

So instead, the airport goes something like this: Rin takes Makoto's suitcase from him, mouth agape, convinced he can't be real after the months apart, must still be on video call, shrunk to the screen of his laptop. But Rin blinks and he can see that Tokyo has changed the set of Makoto’s shoulders, hasn't changed his smile, still lighting up steady and warm as he says nothing more than a simple _hi_. And Rin exhales, says it back, grins, and then grins like a fool when Makoto laughs. Soft, delayed plane and cramped nap tired, but achingly clear.  
  
He has Makoto fill him in on the journey while they’re queueing up to buy an Opal card. On their way to the train, he manages to keep hold of Makoto's suitcase through miraculous powers of persuasion (forcefully slapping Makoto on the wrist every time he attempts to wrangle it back). And the more real Makoto's footfall starts to sound, the more Rin wants to kick himself for not bowling him over back in the arrivals area.  
  
Now, on their way to Central, it's dark outside and surprisingly scarce of other passengers inside, so the white light of the train makes Rin feel insulated, hidden. And he’s still wishing he got the theatrical movie-tier kiss but it's everything when, in front of the empty seats opposite them, he reaches over, skirts his touch over Makoto's knuckle and tangles their fingers.  
  
Makoto has called his parents from Rin’s phone, messaged a photo of the back of Rin’s head to Haru. Now, he holds eye contact with Rin, smiles maybe a touch ruefully.  

"More than once."

~

 

_So, the dreams always start off the same. You turn up somewhere and I know we’re away from each other so I always ask you how you got there, to where I am._

 

~

Rin’s share house is inner city, only 15 minutes from Central station by walk, and what little of Sydney Makoto is able to see on the way surprises him. He’d based his expectations on images of a cool toned skyline and silver water. So he’s taken off guard by the warmth: sturdy looking old brown brick buildings, pubs lit yellow in the night. All with as much presence as the sleek highrises, the glass awnings of updated bus stops. There’s steel and sandstone and somehow, enough breathing room to fit together.

It changes even more the further they walk, and Makoto is conflicted between looking around and just watching Rin. It's a tough decision, because Rin moves so easily here, like he's learned the city's frequency, relaxed into its rhythm well enough that he doesn't need to watch his limbs when they pass other people the way Makoto does. Maybe it should make him feel more out of place, because this is Australia, and there's something about having slept on a plane and woken up on the other side of the Pacific ocean that feels like he's been caught in the whirlpool of some sort of cosmic accident. But then there is  _Rin_ , who doesn't need to spare a glance for the street signs, just keeps looking over at Makoto and smiling like it is as natural as gravitational pull. And the world is at once more vast and more familiar than he has known.

The CBD starts to feel distant the closer they get to Rin's place; he'd said this suburb used to be an industrial area. Eventually, all the parked cars make the streets narrow, lined on either side by paperbark trees, and terraces Rin grumbles about being much too small for the amount of students squeezed into them, pressed snug against each other, some with tiny balconies fringed by wrought iron balustrades.

Makoto wonders what it’ll all look like in the daytime, but it’s nice right now, to stand shoulder to shoulder with Rin in the quiet, taking the glow of the street lamps for their own. 

~

_In the last one, we're in Iwatobi. You’re at the foot of the shrine steps, the ones that lead up to Haru’s house and mine. You’re leaning against the railing as if it’s actually comfortable — that’s so like you — your arms are folded, one foot crossed over the other._

_I ask you how you got there. "Felt like it," you say, like it's obvious. And I’m too happy to think of questioning it._

_We go walking without really discussing it, it’s just the thing to do._

_We do that a lot, and you always seem to know where you want to go._

~

“I can’t believe dream me gets to go out on more dates with you than actual me.”

“To be fair,” and one corner of Makoto’s mouth quirks. “They’re not very good dates. It’s infuriating, you never say what’s going on.”

At that, Rin slaps a hand to his chest, mock aghast, and steps around Makoto so they’ve stopped and they’re facing each other. “I refuse the idea that any version of me has a poor grasp on romance.”

“Well I do still go along with it, don’t I?”

And Rin reaches for his hand.

Makoto slips his fingers between Rin’s, squeezes. “You never do this, though.” There's an unguarded lightness to his eyes that Rin is still not quite used to seeing, though he knows it's something he doesn't want to stop learning. 

And right then, it’s so acute, how aware Rin is that he loves Makoto. “Unbelievable. Either dream me is an imposter or you’re forgetting that this—” he holds up their joined hands. “Is something I want to do whenever you’re around, always.” 

“Very smooth,” Makoto says, like it’s anything but. The way he’s smiling though, edges of his voice curling warm with laughter — that’s where Rin looks for victory.

~

_How do you even get me to tell you these things? Okay, well there’s one where you’re in Tokyo. You’re standing by my window, which is open. When I come closer, we’re already outside, and Haru’s waiting. The whole city is empty, but it’s not frightening, it just feels like it does when it’s too hot in the summer and you wake up before dawn and everyone else is asleep. Do you ever go to the balcony or outside, and for a moment, feel like all the air in the world is yours? It’s like that. And somehow there’s pink light over everything, we keep waving our fingers through it. It’s wonderful, even Haru says so out loud. And you’re smiling like you used to when you were a kid. It’s different, but your smile, it’s still—it’s still the best thing._  

~ 

“Oh, I like that one much better.”

“You levitated, once.”

That startles a laugh out of Rin, and it makes the absurdity tangible. There’s a breeze, carrying the bite of winter that would have made Makoto shiver if it weren’t for the sound. He tries to look chiding, but fails at holding back a smile instead. And it’s a helpless sort of thing, when he starts to laugh along with Rin.

“We were walking up a mountain because you told me there was something very important at the top. But then halfway up you said you were tired, so you just...decided to levitate.”

“The fuck has Haru been feeding you for dinner? Or are you just living off of chocolate? Dairy gives you weird dreams, apparently.”

Makoto can’t help but wince at that, caught out. “I cook, come on!” He’s aware that Rin will know it’s a lie but if Makoto’s honest, he enjoys the ribbing that’ll follow. Just a little. 

And sure enough, there’s that sly smile.

“I said nothing about whether you cook or not, but now I feel like there must be a reason you’re getting defensive.”

Makoto pouts. “The implication was there.”

Rin just shoots him a pointed look in response. “You know instant ramen doesn’t count.”

“As if Haru doesn’t already tell me that enough.”

Shaking his head, Rin shifts back to Makoto’s side so they can keep moving, taking Makoto’s hand again, and dragging the suitcase by the other. “You should listen to Haru. Don’t tell him I said that.” 

Makoto does not feel self conscious of the overblown sulky expression he directs at Rin, just makes another failed attempt to snatch his suitcase back. Then they let it be quiet for a while, save for their footsteps, in line with each other, and the odd sound of TV coming muffled and restless from inside the houses. When Rin shifts slightly, Makoto knows to pay attention

“Do you believe that dreams have deeper meanings and all that?”

Makoto gives a thoughtful hum before shaking his head. “I’d like to say no. I think it’s inviting disaster to get too invested in what your dreams might be saying.” One corner of his mouth turns up then, as he peeks over at Rin from the side. “Once, I dreamed that the whole world was contained in Loosey-kun’s left pupil. I don’t think I could ever go outside again if I tried to give that any real thought.” 

“ _Seriously,_ is there something weird lacing the water in your apartment?" Rin scoffs, but then his eyes widen. When he speaks again, his voice comes low, suspicious in a way that makes Makoto think Nagisa's love of conspiracy theories has been strong enough to rub off on everyone, against all rational odds. "It's either that or the distance has made your telepathic connection with Haru get to you in your sleep.”

Makoto decides not to outright debunk Rin's theory, even as he makes a mental note to tell Haru about this later. Withwords _, externalised_ words. He laughs then, shaking his head. “What about you? Do you think dreams are meaningful?” 

“Actually, I never remember my dreams when I wake up.”

“I wouldn’t have expected that.” Makoto smiles softly when Rin turns his face towards him. “Must be because you see all that unimaginable possibility in everything when you’re awake.” 

He’s certain Rin’s blushing, even without enough light to see.

“Shut _up_ ,” chokes Rin, bumping their shoulders.

And again, Makoto finds himself laughing; he's struck by the sensation of it now, that buoyant, rising sort of warmth. This time it comes with the belated realisation that bit by bit, there's a steady lightness growing with every glance, step, word shared with Rin. He skates his thumb up the side of Rin’s index finger, feels him shiver. He hopes he’s pressing the sincerity of what he said into Rin’s skin — he does not just see possibility, he opens spaces for it. _Magic_.

“Anyway,” Rin says, still sounding a little flustered, and Makoto shifts closer, to listen and assure at once. “I don’t really know what I think about it but Gou believes dreams are messages, has all these books on interpretation and everything. My Grandma got her into it; she always says you need to pay attention to your dreams, because it’s the only time spirits can tell you things. You’re in the middle of dimensions when you sleep.

“My dad would visit her a lot. The rest of us never had dreams of him. But now Grandma too, she says she hasn’t seen him in a while, not since around the time I left.”

He’s silent for a beat, somewhere else, and then he smiles. But it’s rough around the edges, thin. “She used to have this recurring dream, where she’d be diving. She wouldn’t find a single pearl oyster. No abalone or anything. She comes back up for air, takes the boat back to shore. And then she sees my dad. He’s young, not older than 5, and Grandma, she says she suddenly feels her throat close up tight and hot. Suddenly, she gets this feeling like she knows Dad ran off to the rock pools and he didn’t come back and she’s been worried sick. He’s just waving, and she can hear him laughing once she’s in the shallows and scolding him. He yells at her then, to hurry up so she’ll teach him how to swim.”

Makoto’s heart is thudding when Rin finishes. He can still hear that storm, the echo and the clamour. There’s no words to brave that.

So he tightens his grasp on Rin’s hand, slows them both to a stop like he’s anchoring their feet here, in one of the countless kind moments they have still managed to carve out.

“It’s alright,” Rin murmurs. “She says she likes that one.” And he blows his breath out slow, laughs in the shaky way Makoto knows he does when he’s trying to fashion his voice into something less raw.

Makoto ducks his head, so the soft fabric of Rin’s beanie touches his face, and brushes a kiss to the side of Rin’s head.

~

_The bad dreams, I don’t pay them much mind but…_  

_There’s one where I’m speaking to you but you’re looking through me, like that night at the swim club when we were 17._

_There’s another where I’m pressed to the bottom of the swimming pool, lying on the floor and looking up. I’m not drowning, but I still panic. I can’t get myself to breathe properly. But then two people dive in, it’s you and Haru and I’m so relieved. I call for you both but you don’t hear. And the more I try...the pool starts to widen and widen till I can’t see the edges, and you both swim beyond me._

_And sometimes, we’re walking, like we usually do. And you say something, look a certain way, wave your hands in some manner, that strikes me for a moment with just this thought, of being so happy. And I’ll look down to laugh, to figure out what to say back to you, but by the time I’m there, by the time I look up, you’ve completely disappeared. And I’m left with this feeling that that’s it._

~

Rin feels cracked open, chest pulled tight but insubstantial; that's always how it is when he hurts. They’ve reached his house, but he can’t lead Makoto inside, not where the lights are on and there’s the constant noise of his roommates. Not just yet. 

So he lets go of the suitcase and takes Makoto’s other hand, the one he’s not already holding. He turns them in place, so Makoto’s back is to the house, and Rin’s back is to the road, the trees that curve to each other and seem to communicate when the wind blows through them on nights like this. 

Makoto’s brows are knitted, mouth twisted. He looks uncertain, isn’t quite looking at Rin. He might be holding his tongue between his teeth.

Rin’s trying to choose his words carefully, it’s so rare that he does that, but he needs to get this right.

Makoto beats him to it, the crease between his brows smoothing. “But It doesn’t mean anything, really.”

Rin wants to groan, feels a derisive laugh almost bubble out his throat. “Makoto—”

“No. Look, really. Rin, you’re doing everything right. This—” Makoto squeezes Rin’s hands, leans in a touch closer.  He swallows and then his eyes are intense, voice coming low but firm when he speaks again. “You know, you’ve always made it easier for me to be brave. And I’d be an idiot if I put more faith in nightmares than in this.

“I’m not an idiot, Rin.”

“Of course you’re not,” Rin counters, still frustrated. He wants to argue. 

But Makoto is smiling, steeped in the faith he’s just talked about, reassuring. And Rin deflates, wonders how he must have looked for the conversation to have shifted to this direction, to him being the one taking comfort.

“Just, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter if I’m doing things right. Not if you still have moments like that, dream or not, and you won’t tell me so I can remind you how it actually is. Let me let you know why it’s fucked." He has to pause to hiss out his breath. “That didn’t come out right.”

Makoto raises an eyebrow, could even seem skeptical if it wasn’t counterpoint to the waver in his voice. “I-I’m listening.”

“You wanna know something?” Rin asks, but it’s not really a question because he keeps going without waiting for affirmation. “So, 17, right. I couldn’t look at you because if I did, if I saw you smile, felt all over again the way you cared, I’d have hated myself tenfold for turning out the way I did. And I didn’t want to have to apologise for anything, because if I started apologising where would I stop?”

Makoto’s breath catches, mouth parting, and Rin barrels on before he makes himself cry. “See, every time I’ve been strong, done something right, you’ve been there. You and Sousuke and Haru and Nagisa. And then Rei, even. And maybe you think I help you be brave but what about me? Do you know what it means to know that wherever you’re going, wherever you are, you’re still _here_?”  
  
“Rin—”

“No, wait. I’m trying to make sense.” Rin’s sliding his hands up to Makoto’s wrists, walking backwards and tugging Makoto forwards with him. He’s buying time and he’s restless. He wishes he didn’t have to use words, that he could be sure the point would come across if he just brought Makoto closer, pressed all his feelings into him. But that wouldn’t be fair, not when words are what he wishes Makoto would loosen his grasp on. “Sometimes, I get so scared that I’ll sabotage this. And you’ll stop telling me things, these things that I'm always glad you manage to trust me about. You won’t let me in on what you need or where you're at. And then when we come back, it won't be like this.”

“Oh,” Makoto says, but it's not dismissive. Rin thinks he hears a dawning of sorts in it, believes the thought when Makoto starts to step with him, feet quieter where they reach soil, moving between the verge plants on the footpath until Rin’s back is pressed against his roommate’s poorly parked car and he can place Makoto’s hands warm against his hips.

~ 

_The worst dreams are those ones. The ones where you leave and I wake up before I know you want to come back._

_~_

“So,” Rin laughs, rough, still beautiful for it. “We’ve both got issues, huh?”

“Pretty complementary ones, apparently,” Makoto agrees.

Bracketed in shadow and leaning close now, the atmosphere shifts. Like whatever was making Makoto's ribs so heavy moments ago has risen out of him, reacted on contact with the air and transformed into something else. It's not the lightness of earlier and maybe he’ll find himself weak and second guessing later, but he is doing his best to listen to what he feels in the present, even if he’s frightened for it. So right now, he feels seen. He'd want to shy away from that if it weren't for the way Rin leans into him like the feeling is mutual, like it's okay that in this great, big world, they might share a space to fear and want. And there’s heat that curls in the pit of his stomach when Rin pulls him by his hoodie strings, so they’re flush, car to one side and the kerb to the other, under the cover of a tree that extends far enough to mottle the light of a nearby streetlamp. He sees that because there’s still a lump in his throat that stops him from holding Rin's gaze, sliding his hands over him.

It won’t melt until Makoto says something more.

“You never had to apologise, Rin. We were all—I was there because I was happy you were back. It’s never been a test.” 

“Okay.” Rin nods. “And you’ve never been an afterthought to leave behind. Not really, not even when I tried.” 

The words are a vice around Makoto’s heart, the sort he has come to know with Rin, how being loved and loving in turn is a peace that can shake him apart. And now, when Rin brushes a thumb over his bottom lip, with a tenderness that could move monuments, Makoto lets his eyes flutter shut. Their noses touch, and Rin holds him there so they share in the wait, still enough to slow the moment. Long enough that Makoto breathes, feels himself smile, shy but not unpleasantly so.

“The car alarm might go off,” the words leave him on an exhale.

And Rin’s laugh sounds like a whisper. “How enthusiastic are you planning on getting?”

At that, Makoto opens his eyes. He doesn’t care to respond with something witty, not when he sees Rin’s smile. Instead he reaches up and yanks Rin’s beanie over his eyes.

“ _Hey!_ ” Rin says, affronted, but he’s laughing around the word, and Makoto takes a second, just to delight in it. That smile, a strobe of stars, like they used to see in Iwatobi. And for a moment it is only Makoto’s.

At the touch of Makoto’s lips to the corner of Rin’s mouth, his breath goes stilted, laugh coming to an abrupt stop. Makoto hears him swallow, lays a hand gentle around Rin's neck and brings the other up to play with the ends of his hair, curious when he brushes a finger over the shell of Rin’s ear. He shifts from Rin's mouth to his jawline, barely a flicker, just to hear the impatient _tch_ of him clicking his tongue against the roof of his mouth. And Makoto feels wanted, powerful, shaky in that knowledge, when Rin’s fingers skitter over his chest, crossing his heart and coming up to frame his face. He digs his fingers under Rin’s beanie, pushes it back up so he can see his eyes. And Rin hardly moves, there’s just the feather-like flicker of his lashes when he blinks his eyes open.  

He watches Makoto like there is nowhere else worth looking.

The sight steals Makoto’s breath. He’s already recalling the sensation of being kissed, so many months ago now, and it’s a ghost of a thing, more the brush of how it ends than the pressure. Every fibre of his being might be thrumming, he thinks, with the jolt of the memory, of how long it has been.

Their lips touch and there’s _give_ , freefall in the way he sinks into Rin, faster than his heart is pounding. When he tastes Rin’s kiss, it catches him in a haze but he’s awake, so awake, to the way his blood is coursing, the way his body feels stretched taut and shaking over the magnitude of his pulse as he crowds Rin against the car. There’s phosphenes behind his eyelids when he focuses, pinpricks that linger where Rin’s touch is too light. And it’s everything, this, _Rin_ , when they slow against each other, complete in a way Makoto’s dreams never are.

When they break apart, he thanks Rin in a sigh, settling like a bridge between them. Rin shakes his head, leans up to cross the space again—

He says it back.

~ 

_I wake up missing you._

_It's okay, though. More than that, I wake up grateful that you're real._


End file.
